The Rebellion
by Uvatha the Horseman
Summary: During the Age of the Trees, Mairon-Sauron, a loyal and responsible Maiar, begins to crave independence. (slash Sauron/Melkor)
1. The Fork in the Road

**Chapter 1 – The Fork in the Road**

Island of Almaren, First Age of the Lamps

Mairon[1] raised his hand to knock on the door of Aulë's study. His hand was shaking. What he was about to say would change the course of his life

He had decided to leave here to follow Lord Melkor. Even before the Ainulindalë, Mairon was fascinated by Melkor, the mightiest of the Ainur[2].

Melkor was different from the others. He had walked alone into the Void, looking for the light from which to create new life. He was the only one among them who stood up to Ilúvatar. Melkor was magnificent, and Mairon adored him.

When the Ainur first descended into Arda, Mairon hoped to be assigned to Melkor's household. But Melkor was a fire spirit, and Mairon, an earth spirit, was placed with Aulë the Smith instead.

Mairon wasn't unhappy with Aulë. The life of a blacksmith's apprentice suited him, and while Aulë was strict, Mairon liked and respected him. Aulë was a master craftsman, and whatever skill Mairon possessed, he had learned from Aulë.

In the early days of Arda, Mairon and the others raised mountains, placed gems beneath the earth, and invented different kinds of metals. Mairon had so many ideas. He worked hard, and was able to make most of them real.

But lately, he found himself longing for more. He couldn't remember when he began to feel restless, but even though he was busy, he wasn't doing anything important.

Then, Melkor rebelled against the other Valar and asked others to join him. Melkor was aggressive. Melkor broke the rules. As a servant of Melkor, Mairon would be able to get things done.

It was a hard decision. Mairon hated to leave Aulë; he had been with him since the creation of Arda, but in the end, he decided to accept Melkor's offer. Now all he needed was Aulë's permission to go. He raised his hand and knocked.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Aulë was sitting in his study when he heard a knock on the door. He looked up and saw Mairon, the most senior of his apprentices, and Aulë's favorite.

"May I come in?" Mairon asked, his eyes on the floor.

That was odd. Mairon was many things: self-assured, industrious, and responsible, but never shy.

"Come in. Have a seat." said Aulë.

Mairon closed the door behind him before slipping into the chair in front of Aulë's desk. Shutting the door, that was unusual, too.

Aulë studied him carefully, trying to assess his mood. Mairon looked nervous, but excited and hopeful, too.

Aulë studied him carefully, trying to assess his mood. Mairon looked nervous, but excited and hopeful, too. Aulë had seen the look before, and it always meant the same thing. I've met someone and I want to get married. But Aulë didn't allow his apprentices to marry. He always said no.

Aulë steeled himself for what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation.

"So what's on your mind?" he asked.

"Melkor invited me to join his household. I came to ask your blessing before I gave him my answer."

Aulë leaned back in his chair, surprised. He knew that Melkor had been sniffing around every household in Ea, trying to find people to join him in his revolt against the Valar. But he never thought Melkor would be able to recruit Mairon, whom he had always thought was too sensible to be lured away by promises of excitement and power.

"This is very sudden." Aulë said.

"Not really. I've admired Melkor since before the Ainulindalë. But I don't want you to think I'm leaving you entirely; after all, there are other Maiar who serve two Valar." said Mairon.

_Not in my household there aren't_, thought Aulë.

Aulë knew Mairon hero-worshiped Melkor, but he hadn't worried about it much. It wasn't unusual for someone as steady and reliable as Mairon to become infatuated with someone wild and dangerous. But hero-worship usually involved admiration from a distance, not abandoning a well-ordered life to follow someone on a doomed adventure.

"Well, let's think about this. You're the most senior Maia in my household. The others look up to you. Melkor already has Kosomot[3] as his second-in-command. If you changed households, you wouldn't be the senior Maia anymore." said Aulë.

"I don't care about rank. I just want to join the Rebellion and return to Arda." said Mairon.

"Do you know what kind of people have been accepting Melkor's offer? They're the ones who are always in trouble, who can't follow rules, like Ossë." said Aulë.

No one was surprised when Ossë rebelled. Ossë was wild and reckless; he was responsible for the storms that lashed the coasts and shallow waters. Melkor could have him.

"You love order, but you'd be surrounded by chaos. And other than Melkor himself, no one in his household is as smart as you. You'd have no friends." said Aulë.

"I don't care about myself, I care about Arda. We abandoned it before it was finished, and now we're sitting here in Valinor, doing nothing." said Mairon.

Aulë wasn't unsympathetic; Mairon was a hard worker, and he didn't have enough to do here.

"There's something else you need to know." Aulë chose his words carefully. "Melkor is not a good person. He uses people. If something happened to you, he'd just replace you with someone else and never think of you again.

Mairon listened in silence. Aulë couldn't tell how he was reacting; his hair covered his face. Then Mairon brushed his cheek, and tried to make it look like he was just pushing back his hair.

"Look, I understand the lure of a charismatic leader and a life that's dangerous and exciting, but that's not your life. Your place is here. I know you're sensible enough to understand."

Mairon's shoulders sagged. He nodded and got up to leave. Aulë watched him go.

Aulë sighed. That was every bit as bad as telling someone they can't get married. He wasn't looking forward to the next few weeks, the inevitable bad temper and sullen silences before things went back to normal.

* * *

><p>[1] Sauron<p>

[2] The Holy Ones = angelic beings

[3] Gothmog


	2. The Courtship

**Chapter 2 - The Courtship**

Mairon sat at a table in the tavern with Urúnya, a young woman from Lórien's household. He looked around the room while he held her hand. They were sitting near a fireplace tall enough to walk into, surrounded by river stones. A few bricks of peat smoldered on the hearth, giving off a pleasant aroma.

The tavern, the front room of a house on the village green, was the most popular alehouse in Valimar. Tonight it was completely full. Each of the mismatched tables had at least two people sitting at it, and most had more.

While she talked about the small happenings of her day, he listened to her but also to the talk at the next table; Lord Námo and Lady Vairë had quarreled and weren't speaking at the moment, according to the man telling the story. Mairon loved gossip. His attention was on the next table, but all the while, he kept his eyes on Urúnya and nodded in all the right places.

When they left, Mairon turned his attention back to Urúnya. He told her how he hoped to have his own smithy someday, and his own cottage. How he wished to share it with someone. She listened without comment. Long ago, Mairon tried to join the Rebellion. He was disappointed, but he was also enough of a realist to know when to give up an unworkable ambition chose a goal that was within his grasp. A life with Urúnya was his new goal.

When he realized it was getting late, he settled the bill and got up. "Let me walk you home." he said.

They left the tavern and stepped into the night[1] air. Urúnya lived about as far from Valimar as he did, but in the opposite direction.

They strolled down the road through village. Mairon fell silent, suddenly shy. He wanted a future with her.

On either side of them, substantial houses sat shoulder to shoulder, some of them two stories tall. Valimar was the capital of Valinor, and its largest and most prosperous settlement.

They left the village behind them, and the wide avenue gave way to a lane rutted by cartwheels, just wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The low ground beside the road was marshy and uncultivated, and the songs of frogs and insects filled the air. He felt deeply content.

Just before they reached Urúnya's front door, he stopped. This was where he usually kissed her goodnight. Instead, he faced her and held both her hands, silently rehearsing what he wanted to say. His mouth was dry.

"It's so hard, leaving you here and going home by myself. I want to be together always. Let's ask for permission to wed," he said.

"You know it's going to be difficult. Maiar[2] aren't supposed to marry." said Urúnya.

"Ossë and Uinen did." said Mairon.

"They're the only ones, and they're from the same household." said Urúnya.

"Why should the Valar be allowed to marry when we are not? We're all the same race, it's just a matter of degree." said Mairon. "If Aulë gives me permission to marry, we can do it. And if he doesn't, we'll elope. What do you say?"

"I need time to think about it. And I would have to ask permission too. Give me a few days." said Urúnya.

He gave her a chaste kiss outside her front door.

Mairon was too agitated to go home afterwards. He was anxious all evening, knowing he was going to ask her tonight. He expected her to say yes, to throw her arms around his neck and tell him how happy she was. But she didn't. She said she'd think about it, even though they'd talked about marriage in general terms for some time now, and even though, the last time he saw her, he stayed out all night with her.

He didn't want to see his fellow apprentices back at the dormitory until he'd had some time alone. He returned to the tavern and sat by himself in a quiet corner until the tavern keeper turned the chairs onto the tables and started sweeping up beneath them.

* * *

><p>[1] The sun and moon don't exist yet, nor do the stars. Light comes from the Two Trees.<p>

[2] servants


	3. The Separation

**Chapter 3 - The Separation**

Mairon gave a hard pull on the rope that operated the bellows. Fire jumped up from the dark red coals. For a moment, orange light reached the far corners of the forge. Then the flames died down, and the room went dark again.

Before he'd started working, Mairon had pulled all the shutters closed to block out all outside light. He was going to try to make something from an alloy that had to be worked at precise temperatures. The only way to gage temperature was from the color of the hot metal, but the outside light made it hard to see.

The darkness in the forge didn't trouble him. Like all Ainur, Mairon could see reasonably well in near-darkness. He couldn't see the details of the room, like racks of tongs hanging on the wall or a succulent plant on the windowsill, but he could see well enough to move around without tripping.

He watched the color of the piece as it crept from deep red to orange. When he judged the temperature of the piece to be right, he let it heat up a little more, then pulled it from the fire and laid it on the anvil. In the few steps between the fire and the anvil, the piece cooled to exactly the right temperature, he noted with satisfaction.

He picked up a hammer and stuck the first blow. Soon he was in a rhythm, focused on what he was doing. The sound of the hammer on metal rang like bells, the music of the forge.

The door opened. It was bright outside, and he was momentarily blinded when light flooded the room. Startled, he struck the piece wrong and bent it. He threw the damaged piece of work on the ground in exasperation.

"Mairon, Aulë wants to see you." he heard one of his fellow apprentices say.

"Just a moment, I need to fix this first." Mairon struck another half dozen blows. He would have liked to put the piece back in the fire and keep working. Instead, he plunged it into the slake tub and held it there until the cold water stopped hissing. Then he pulled it out and started to put his tools away.

"Mairon, Aulë wants to see you right away. Get moving."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Mairon knocked on the open door of Aulë's study and came in. "Shut the door, please. Sit down." Aulë said. His face was as hard as iron. Mairon sat.

"I understand that you came home late yesterday, knee walking drunk. Would you like to tell me about it?" said Aulë.

_No, I wouldn't._ "I left the tavern late yesterday evening, when they closed. I was drinking, but not excessively."

"Do you have anything else you'd like to tell me?"

"No, not that I can think of."

"Lórien spoke to me today. He's concerned by the attention you've been paying to Urúnya. Can you tell me about that?"

_No, it's not something I care to discuss. _"Why do you ask?" said Mairon.

"She came to him to ask permission to marry you," said Aulë.

She said yes. She had agreed to marry him. A grin started to spread across his face.

"Lórien told her no. Furthermore, he's forbidden her to see you again. I agree with him. Maiar shouldn't marry. As of today, I forbid you to see her," said Aulë.

"We've going to marry; you can't stop us," said Mairon.

"He sent her away where you can't find her. Don't even try," said Aulë.

Mairon thought his head would explode. His chest heaved, and he clutched the sides of the chair.

"There's one more thing. Look at me. Did you lay with her?"

Mairon met Aulë's eye and said "No". He turned away, his face burning.

"Mairon. You lied to me." Aulë looked like he'd just been slapped.

Mairon realized the magnitude of his error; he felt the color draining from his face. It wasn't the deed itself that was so terrible, it was lying about it. His mind raced. He opened his mouth to explain away the original lie, but closed it again without speaking. The silence hung between them.

"Let's go to the barn." said Aulë.

_What's in the barn? _Aulë usually just took off his belt and used it on him.

They walked across the yard in silence. The grass was dry, with bare patches where chickens had scratched for insects. Mairon's heart raced. He wondered if he would faint. The barn doors were open. Aulë motioned Mairon inside, then followed and pulled the doors shut behind them.

The barn smelled of horses and fresh straw. A few of the younger apprentices were seeing to the animals. Aulë asked them to leave. Mairon still didn't know why they were here. His breathing was shallow and fast.

Aulë walked by the place where the tack and harnesses were kept, and picked up a horsewhip. He pointed to the back of the barn where the wagon was usually kept. The wagon was outside at present, leaving a wide, open space.

"Put your hands against the wall." Aulë told him. Mairon obeyed him. The wood felt splintery against his palms.

"Wait. Take off your shirt." Aulë said.

Mairon undid the laces at the neck and pulled his shirt off easily enough, but he couldn't fold it because his hands were shaking too hard. With an air of studied casualness, he held the shirt at arms' length and dropped it on the ground.

He told himself it would be no worse than a beating with a belt, and he would approach it the same way. He would set his teeth and feign indifference. Whatever happened, he wasn't going to cry out.

He stepped forward and put his hands against the wall.

_Get on with it, why don't you?_ he thought. He held his breath and waited.

-o-o-o-o-o-

He stirred. He didn't know where he was, but he was pretty sure he'd had way too much to drink at the tavern and passed out on the way home.

Something was stinging him. He remembered seeing a cloud of yellow jackets clustered around an almost invisible hole in the ground, the entrance to their subterranean nest. He must have fallen on it when he passed out. He tried to roll over and crawl away, but a strong hand held him down.

"Easy. No need to get up before you're ready." Aulë's voice.

"What happened?" said Mairon.

"You fainted." said Aulë.

Mairon lifted his head. He was in the barn. He didn't remember fainting. He remembered counting the blows and holding his breath, but that was all.

"Come on. Let's get you back to the house." Aulë said in the tone he used with Yavanna when he realized he'd just done something insensitive. It was the closest Aulë ever came to saying he was sorry.

-o-o-o-o-o-

He climbed the stairs to the apprentices' dormitory, a long, low-ceilinged room under the eaves lit by a small window at each end. Narrow beds filled almost all the available space. He lay on his bed, at the far end of the room beside the window, and stayed there for the rest of the day. Normally the others were downstairs during the day, but there was always someone coming up to change clothes, or get something from under his bed, or finding a quiet place to read.

He hoped they would think he was sick and leave him alone. They pretty much did, but sometimes he could hear snatches of conversation from the hall.

".. hear about Mairon? Aulë beat him unconscious." someone said.

_Actually, I held my breath too long_, thought Mairon.

"He's tough, as hard as steel. I wouldn't want to cross him." someone else said. Mairon was becoming a legend among the other apprentices. The idea gave pleased him.

Towards evening, he got up to wash off the dried blood and grime. He wrapped himself in a blanket and shuffled down the hall to the lavatory, moving carefully, like one who is very old.

He turned the tap and watched as the water level climbed. Steam rose from its surface. When the washtub was full, he let the blanket fall to the floor. He stepped into the hot water and slid down until it reached his neck. It stung, but it still relaxed him. He closed his eyes and breathed in the steam, sighing.

The door behind him opened. He didn't turn around.

"I heard you were up. I came to check on you." said Aulë.

Mairon ignored him.

"I've always thought highly of you. But recently, you've done things I consider unworthy of you, the sarcasm, the lying. And now you're no longer chaste." said Aulë.

Mairon studied his nails. He found he could make interesting patterns in the water by flicking his fingers.

"It's so hard to get through to you lately. The last time you broke the rules, I beat you until my arm ached and you just laughed at me." said Aulë.

"I'm tough. I can take it." Mairon said evenly.

"I was hard on you." said Aulë.

Mairon didn't answer.

"Talk to me." said Aulë.

"I'll try to say this in the nicest possible way. Would you please just go away?"

There was a long pause before he heard the door being pulled shut.


	4. The Wild One

**Chapter 4 - The Wild One**

_"In storm he delights, and laughs amid the roaring of the waves. Therefore those who dwell by the sea or go up in ships may love him, but they do not trust him."_

The Silmarillion

Mairon was late. He hated being late, but he also hated to lay down a task before it was finished. As he approached their meeting place, a hollow under a huge elm tree, he slowed to a lope and then stopped completely, a hand on his chest, breathing hard. He heard Ossë's voice rising with emotion.

" .. it's as if I'm just a hired man. Ulmo gives me bed and board, but he doesn't treat me like I'm part of the family."

Mairon grinned; Ossë was here today. They didn't see him often. His realm was the shallows and coastal seas; he hadn't been in Valimar in an age. Ossë had a closer connection to Melkor than anyone Mairon knew; Mairon enjoyed being with him.

Mairon stepped into the dell. Eönwë was sitting on the grass with his sister Ilmarë, Ossë sat near them. Mairon smiled at him, but Ossë looked away; he must not have seen him. Mairon sat down on the grass beside Eönwë and stretched out his legs. Cicadas droned in the tall grass. Ossë was still venting.

"All of you have bonds of affection with your masters. Eönwë, you and Ilmarë are like the cherished children of loving parents; Mairon is like a stubborn oldest son who butts heads with a strict, emotionally distant father, but when I see the two of them together, it's obvious they care for each other. But I serve a master who's indifferent to me."

Mairon didn't want to hear about Ossë's unhappiness, he wanted to hear him talk about his adventures.

Ossë was wild. Ossë took risks. Ossë did things the rest of them wouldn't dream of doing. Mairon enjoyed being with him because, to some extent, he lived vicariously through Ossë.

When Melkor raised his banner in Rebellion, Ossë was one of the first to join with him. He did it because Melkor promised him dominion of the seas; Mairon urged him to do it. Ossë didn't stay long, but in the time he was there, he fought in the wars against the Valar and helped to dig the foundations of Utumno, fortress of Melkor; its name alone inspired awe.

"Your life is exciting, Ossë. You must have the most wonderful stories, and you've barely told us anything." Mairon said.

Ossë moved slightly, and Mairon's view of him was blocked by Eönwë.

"I raised storms which battered the coasts or Arda, and I made whole cliffs break loose and fall into the surf, but the best part was how much freedom I had. I didn't feel like anyone's servant; I was independent." Ossë said.

"Why did you come back?" asked Eönwë.

"I missed Uinen." Ossë said.

Mairon's gut lurched. Ossë had a wife, he didn't.

Talk moved on to other subjects. Mairon hugged his knees to his chest and stared into space. The thought kept slamming against him; Ossë had been in the Rebellion, Ossë had a wife. It was old news; why was it so upsetting to hear it again. Because this was the first time he'd seen Ossë since his own failed attempts to get the same things for himself.

Eönwë got up to go. "Lord Manwë called a meeting of the Council of Valar. He wants me to sit behind him and take notes. If it's anything like last time, it will go on for hours," Eönwë rubbed his hand.

"I have good handwriting. I might consider swapping chores with you if you'd rather chop wood all afternoon," said Mairon.

"That's all right. Anything that came up this suddenly is bound to be interesting." Eönwë lowered his voice. "Actually, I don't know what it's about. All I know is that it will be held behind closed doors, and only the participants will be privy to the discussions."


	5. The Grudge

**Chapter 5 – The Grudge**

The group broke up shortly after Eönwë left. Mairon walked home, fuming.

Ossë had everything Mairon wanted; he had joined with Melkor, and he was married. That was more than his share. He led a charmed life; everything Mairon had strived for and failed to win came easily to him. Mairon kicked a tree stump and sent splinters flying.

And if that weren't enough, when Melkor sang his own theme in the Ainulindalë, Ossë was among those who sang with him. Mairon always did what was expected of him; he didn't even consider leaving the main theme. Looking back, not singing with Melkor in the Ainulindalë was one of the chief regrets of his life.

Mairon couldn't understand why Ossë was doing better than he was. Mairon worked hard, he was responsible, he followed the rules; Ossë didn't. It wasn't fair.

A thought stopped him in his tracks. He didn't have what Ossë had because he followed the rules. Mairon asked permission to join the Rebellion; it was denied. He asked permission to marry; it was denied. Ossë never asked.

Mairon felt cold all over. He had been wronged, and he wanted to strike back, but he didn't know how. What if he kept his ears open, and passed on all that he heard to Melkor?

If Eönwë had traded chores with him, he would be sitting in the Council of Valar right now. Later, he could write down all he learned and send it to Melkor. It would get back at the Valar, and they would never know. At the same time, it would forge a connection with Melkor. However, Eönwë didn't trade with him, so he had nothing to pass on.

Unless Melkor was interested in ordinary gossip; what if he kept his ears open and passed on tidbits. It would maintain a connection with Melkor, in some small way. He wouldn't do anything wrong, like go through ledgers he had no business reading, or break the seal on a document he'd been entrusted to carry, he'd just keep doing what he was already doing, eavesdropping to hear gossip. Then he'd find an excuse to go to the shore of Arda and give a note to one of Melkor's people.

But realistically, it wouldn't be easy to get a letter to Melkor. Eönwë and Oromë were the only ones who carried official messages to Utunmo.

The chimneys and roofs of the Mansions of Aulë came into view, followed by the buildings that surrounded the great stone house: the stables and barns, woodsheds, and outbuildings.

Mairon was late returning from the midday break, so he went straight to the forge. Smoke rose from the blackened chimney; it carried sparks high into the air, and the music of hammer blows came from within. Others had arrived before him. He arranged his features in a neutral mask; the anger, the malice he was feeling right now were his secret.

-o-o-o-o-o-

His eyes adjusted to the dimness; the red light from the fires was enough to see by. Curumo and several others were bent over their work. He looked around for Aulë, but didn't see him. Oh right; he was at the Council Meeting.

Mairon picked up the cast iron blade of a plowshare. Its weight stretched his shoulder and dragged his hand toward the ground. He wrestled it into the fire and worked the bellows until yellow flames leapt from the coals.

He yanked a hammer from the rack, the largest one. He was one of the few who could lift it, but today it seemed weightless. He raised it high above his head and struck the hot metal again and again. He wanted to smash something. He wanted to hurt the ones who wronged him. He raised the hammer and, in his mind, brought it down on the pump for the well, the gears of a mill, the floodgate of a canal; anything he'd made for them that they used every day.

But soon, his arm dropped to his side, the hammer slack in his fingers. He didn't want to break anything[1]; not something he had made, not even something someone else had made that he liked. He put thoughts of destruction aside and set to work forge welding the ploughshare blade to the beam fitting.

Forge welding was an expert skill; he was one of the few who possessed the ability, or for that matter, the necessary physical strength. He lifted the two cast iron pieces onto the coals to let them soften in the heat.

Mairon scanned the labels of a dozen pigeonhole-sized drawers, looking for flux. The heat-softened faces of each piece had to be absolutely clean before they were hammered together; otherwise, the weld would fail. Flux, sprinkled on red-hot steel, would melt and wash off the ash and scale deposited by the fire.

Mairon found the drawer and scooped out a measure of soapy white crystals: borax, a mineral dug from the beds of ancient seas. His scoop scraped against the bottom of the drawer; the supply was running low. When it ran out completely, someone would have to travel to Arda and dig more from the flatlands in Beleriand. Valinor, a young continent, didn't have ancient seabeds. Mairon was always quick to volunteer for an errand to Arda, but there was still half a drawer left; it would last a while longer.

The tall supply case held hundreds of drawers, each labeled with the name its contents, but there were a few drawers without labels on the bottom row near the ground, empty and neglected. Mairon looked around the forge; Curumo had stepped outside, and the other apprentices were absorbed in their own work, their backs to him.

When he was sure he was unobserved, he opened one of the empty drawers and poured all the remaining flux into it. He would have preferred to dump it in the trash heap outside, but the chances of being seen were too great.

A sound behind him made him jump. He froze, trying not to look guilty, but at the same time shielding the view of the supply case with his body. His hands were shaking, but he somehow got the drawer back in its pigeonhole. He put off looking up to gain a few more seconds in which to think up a convincing lie, but it wasn't necessary; when he did look up, there was no one there.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Aulë returned from the Council meeting late that evening. He was one of the most important members of the Council, and had been detained in private discussions with Lord Manwë after the larger Council was dismissed.

Most of the others had already gone up to bed, but Mairon waited and sat with him while he ate dinner. Mairon often waited up for Aulë when he came home late, even though he liked to turn in early, and it would be easier to go upstairs with the others. He struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Eönwë said Lord Manwë called an emergency meeting of the Council. What's going on?" Mairon asked.

"Melkor is on the move." Aulë said.

"Really? What happened? And what are they going to do about it?" he asked, looking alarmed.

"It's nothing to concern yourself with, lad. Arda is far away, and events over there don't affect us here in Valinor, no matter how awful they are."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, we're out of borax. I'd like to travel to Beleriand to get some more." said Mairon.

"I think you can also find it in Araman, in the northern tip of Valinor, if you're willing to dig for it. Try there first." said Aulë.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Mairon went to Araman first, as Aulë suggested. He stayed there just long enough to be able to tell Aulë he'd looked around and not found anything, then crossed the Sundering Sea to Beleriand, the westernmost part of Arda. He kept moving east through the grasslands in Beleriand, where he could find the mineral that was ostensibly the reason for his trip.

He made no attempt to conceal himself; he wanted one of Melkor's people to notice him and make contact. Beleriand was thick with plants and animals, but he saw no other Maiar. He rattled the sheets of rock beneath the soil; the trembling would carry through the earth and be felt far away.

Even though he used to live here, he didn't see much he recognized. Finally, on the eastern horizon, he saw something as familiar as his own backyard; the Ered Luin[2], a fence of mountains shaped by his own hand. He awakened a young mountain; smoke rose from its peak. The grey plume traveled east on the wind, in the direction of the fortress of Utumno.

He kept walking toward the Ered Luin, until a low rumble made him stop and turn around. The snout of a wolf parted the tall grasses; a huge beast stepped forward, the fur bristling on the back of its neck. Mairon stared back and held his ground.

There was something familiar about the creature: the way it walked, the way it held its head. Draugluin. Mairon used to know him. He was a fire spirit who sang in the Ainulindalë; like all Melkor's Maiar, he stayed behind in Arda when the rest went to Valinor. Mairon hadn't seen him since.

"Draugluin, well met. I have a message for your Master."

The puffed up fur relaxed. Draugluin shifted shape to assume the form he had when Mairon knew him. He took a few steps forward, placing his bare feet carefully on the stony ground.

Mairon held out the letter. It was an incriminating document; Mairon was taking a huge risk carrying it on his person, since it was signed it with own name and addressed it to Melkor.

Draugluin stopped ten feet away and stood perfectly still. He listened without changing expression, then turned to leave, dropping to all fours and cloaking himself in silver fur. Mairon stood there with his arm extended, the letter still in his hand, watching Draugluin's retreating back.

"Wait! Tell Lord Melkor that the Council of Valar just met in an emergency session, held in great secrecy. The Valar think Melkor is on the move again." Mairon said.

Draugluin kept walking. He didn't look back.

"I'm Mairon, by the way." said Mairon.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Mairon reached the shore of Valinor after a long trip over the Sundering Sea, and continued on to Valimar without stopping to rest. When he was almost home, Mairon realized he had forgotten to collect any borax at either of the places he'd traveled to get it. Good thing he hid it in a drawer and hadn't thrown it out.

-o-o-o-o-o-

A thud against the kitchen window made them all look up. "What was that?" said Mairon.

"I think a bird flew into the glass, poor thing." said Aiwendil, running over to the window. He pushed open the casement and looked down. "But there's no body lying on the ground, and there's not an oil mark on the windowpane from his feathers. He must be all right." Aiwendil closed the window and went back to what he had been doing.

Mairon sat at the long kitchen table beating dough for biscuits. Made without leavening, they needed air beaten into the dough. It could take half an hour or more.

Week had gone by, and he hadn't heard anything from Melkor. He stirred the dough hard; the spoon snapped in half.

"Can someone help me get the meat out of the oven? The tray is heavier than I can lift," someone called from the other side of the room from the stone hearth. Mairon got to his feet; whenever a task required strength, it usually fell to him.

It started to get dark. Aiwendil lit the lamps and set them around the kitchen. It was blue twilight outside; the garden and pasture beyond the window were invisible.

A handful of pebbles struck the glass. That was no bird. The others didn't hear; they were taking things out of the oven on the other side of the kitchen. Marion looked out the window, but saw only his own reflection in the glass. Then he saw fire, swirling in a column as tall as a man; within moments, it dissolved into sparks and was gone.

Marion looked to see that he was unobserved; the other two had their backs turned. He slipped out the kitchen door to the garden. Outside, it was a blue twilight, not nearly as dark as it looked from inside.

Beyond the kitchen garden was the pasture, a field of sheep-clipped grass and rocky outcroppings with a few isolated stands of trees. He headed for the spot where he thought he saw the fire, but found nothing.

He kept looking. Further from the house, it smelled like burning leaves. Among a stand of trees, he found a burned patch in the grass. He searched the ground around it, but saw nothing but tree roots and more grass.

The light was fading, and his back hurt from bending over. He straightened up, his hand in the small of his back. His eye traveled up the tree trunk in front of him. A string was tied around the trunk at eye level; there was a piece of paper folded in half and tucked under it. He read the letters printed across its front. Mairon.

* * *

><p>[1] Melkor destroyed things, Sauron was content to control them.<p>

[2] Blue Mountains


	6. The Spy

**Chapter 6 - The Spy**

"_Melkor knew of all that was done; for even then he had secret friends and spies among the Maiar whom he had converted to his cause, and of these the chief, as after became known, was Sauron."_

Morgoth's Ring, p 52

Mairon moved as quietly as he could down the back staircase. If he could get out the back door unseen, he wouldn't have to lie to anyone about where he was going.

He lifted the latch on the door. The parts moved smoothly and made no sound. He smiled, proud of his workmanship. He was just about to open the door when something startled him. He whipped around, and in the shadows at the back of the stairwell, there was Curumo[1] watching him.

Mairon stood with his hand on his chest, waiting for his pulse to slow down. He should be used to it by now, but it still gave him a start. The last time he caught Curumo spying on him he complained to Aulë, who said, "Curumo admires you and wants to be like you. Just ignore him."

Curumo's name meant "cunning", which fit. Actually, it referred to the skill of his hands, for Curumo had more natural talent than any of Aulë's apprentices. Mairon was stronger than Curumo, but he wasn't better. It didn't make him like his brother apprentice any better.

"I'm going to meet Eönwë, and no, you can't come along." Mairon said, even though Curumo hadn't asked.

"Eönwë went to Lorien. He won't be back until tomorrow." said Curumo.

Mairon dug in his pocket for a coin. He pulled out a larger one than he'd intended, but held it out to Curumo anyway.

"Not good enough." said Curumo.

"How about this?" Mairon hissed, tensing his muscles and assuming a fighter's stance.

Curumo snatched the coin and scurried off.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Mairon sat at a table in the back of the tavern opposite a horseman called Roch, one of Oromë's Maiar. Mairon knew the young man by name, but knew nothing of his character or interests. The young man believed this was a chance encounter. Actually, Mairon had been stalking him for days, trying to fabricate an excuse to spend time with him.

Today, the crush in the tavern during the midday meal gave him his chance. When he spotted his target sitting alone at a small table, he squeezed through the crowd and deliberately bumped the table hard enough to knock over the young man's tankard. Ale spilled across the table and into the man's lap. He jumped to his feet with a curse, and tried to shake off the ale soaking into his clothes.

"I'm sorry. Please let me buy you another." Mairon said. The man looked at him, visibly annoyed.

"Barmaid, bring us two tankards." Mairon pulled a chair over from another table and sat down, uninvited. "Have you ordered something to eat yet? It's on me."

Soon after, Mairon was leaning forward, feigning interest while his new friend talked about bird watching. He especially liked the kind of barn swallow that built mud nests. "I like sparrows, too." Mairon said.

_Except I can't tell a sparrow from a wren. Where's Aiwendil **[2]** when you need him?_ Mairon thought. He'd have to learn the names of common birds before their next meeting, if this scheme was going to work.

Mairon mirrored his companion's gestures, crossing his arms or resting his hands on the table when Roch did, and when the meal came to an end, Mairon picked up the tab. "You can get it next time." he told his new friend. It created an obligation to meet again.

And when he did, that's when his real work would begin. Mairon was collecting information. More than anything else, Melkor wanted to know about the doings of his brother Manwë, who took over as leader of the Valar when Melkor left.

The information Melkor wanted was hard to come by. The Valar seldom discussed secret plans in front of their servants. However, the Maiar overheard more than they let on, and it's a rare servant who doesn't enjoy trading gossip. Mairon hoped to take advantage of it.

Mairon made no attempt today to find out how much his target knew or whether he was dissatisfied with his life in Valinor. Pressing him for confidences too soon would scare him off. He had learned from experience that trust had to develop naturally over time. Mairon suggested they meet again, and they agreed on a time and place.

After the man left, Mairon pulled out a small notebook and wrote down everything he could remember about him, his name and the Vala he served, that he was left handed and slender, his preferences in food and drink, and the names of his friends.

When he put the notebook back in his pocket, Mairon's fingers brushed against the letter hidden there. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone else. It was his secret. The letter ended with a simple request. "Identify the dissatisfied ones, and plant in them the seeds of Rebellion."

Mairon realized that what he was doing was dangerous. If he got caught, he could go to prison. But he was being careful. _And besides, I'm too smart to get caught, _he thought.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Mairon returned to the house and entered through the back door near the servants' staircase. When he closed the door, he heard something strike the tiles behind him. He finished securing the latch, then noticed Melkor's letter on the floor near his feet. He swore, then scooped it up and shoved it back in his pocket, grateful he hadn't lost it on the road somewhere between the tavern and home.

Mairon knew it wasn't safe to carry the letter on his person anymore. He couldn't be caught with it, because it exposed him as a servant of Melkor. He couldn't risk losing it either; it was addressed to him, and Melkor's blocky handwriting was well known and easy to recognize.

He hurried up the stairs to the apprentices' dormitory. He looked around, and when he was sure he was alone, went straight to his bed by the window.

He knelt before the wooden chest at the foot of his bed. Its front panel was decorated with a painting of a young mountain being formed, rivers of orange flowing down its sides. He considered it to be his personal emblem; molten rock was both earth and fire.

When he lifted the lid, he saw that everything inside was neat and well ordered, just as he'd left it, but something was off. He frowned and looked again. It took him a minute to realize than the shirt on top of the stack wasn't quite aligned with one below it. Whatever hand had touched it last, it wasn't his.

He plunged both arms into the chest and dug through layers of clothes. At the very bottom, beneath his seldom-worn traveling clothes, his fingers touched metal. He started to calm down; the strongbox was still there.

He pulled it out and sat back on his heels, singing softly to release the lock. Inside, he saw the leather pouch which held all of his savings, a bauble given to him by Urúnya, and some clumsy iron tools, the first pieces of blacksmithing he ever made.

He opened the pouch and spilled coins into his hand, counting them to assure himself that none were missing. As far as he could tell, the strongbox hadn't been touched. Probably someone borrowed some of his clothes without asking. He had done it to others on occasion, but it had never happened to him before.

If someone had been in his clothes chest, it wasn't a good idea to keep the letter there. The postscript told him to burn it as soon as he read it, but it was the only thing he had from Melkor and it was precious to him. A noise in the hall startled him. He shoved Melkor's letter in the in the strongbox with the money and trinkets and tucked it out of sight.

-o-o-o-o-o-

(another target) He was meeting one of Vairë's Maiar tonight.

Mairon leaned forward and listened with all his attention as his target vented about Vairë not appreciating him enough.

The man knew something he wanted to know about

He pretended he already knew, no secret was being revealedHe acted like a know-it-all and stated a fact wrong, insulted the man to make him mad, jump in and correct him.

Mairon stayed behind with the excuse that he still had half a pint to finish.

(information, not recruitment)

-o-o-o-o-o-

Mairon reached the tavern slightly later than he planned. He was meeting Roch again tonight. They'd met many times, and the last time they saw each other, Mairon judged him nearly ready to be recruited into the Rebellion.

When he arrived, Roch was already waiting for him in a booth in the back. _Good, we can speak privately, _Mairon thought.

"Have you ordered already? I'll have the same." said Mairon. "And what are you having to drink? I'll have that too." The disadvantage of mirroring was that he often had to eat a meal he didn't like, even though he was the one paying.

The barmaid cleared away the dishes and Mairon settled the bill. A few of the patrons had begun to sing accompanied by a stringed instrument, which reduced the chance of being overheard. He waited until he was sure the barmaid was out of earshot, then, with studied casualness, he said, "I hear Melkor built a fortress called Utumno, the greatest in Arda."

"Wouldn't that be something?" the man sighed.

"What do you mean?" said Mairon.

"It seems so brave and desperate of them. It's kind of exciting, really."

"I thought so, too." said Mairon. "I hear his Maiar have a lot more freedom than we do. They have the status the Valar have here" Mairon lowered his voice, "and the power the Valar have, too."

Roch looked off into the distance. "I'm sorry I didn't go with them, when the others left to join the Rebellion."

After he left, Mairon stayed behind for a few minutes, writing up his notes. Roch followed Melkor's discordant theme in the Music, at least for a little while. That was more than Mairon had done. Mairon felt sure he would join the Rebellion. All he needed was a little push.

At the end of the evening, they picked a time for their next meeting and said goodnight. Mairon stayed behind with the excuse that he wanted to listen to the music a little longer. Ten minutes later, he closed his notebook and got up to go home.

The tavern was packed. The crowd near the door was so thick, he had to turn sideways and push his way through. In the crush of bodies, someone pressed a folded piece of paper into his hand and closed his fingers over it. He shoved it into his pocket before anyone else saw.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Back at the house, he slipped in by the back door, climbed the stairs to the attic as quietly as he could, and reached the apprentices' dormitory. As far as he could tell, no one saw him come in. He looked around and assured himself that the room was empty. It was cold up here, and most of the others preferred to sit around the kitchen table in the evenings, near the stone hearth where the fire never went out.

He sat down on his bed, ducking his head to avoid the sloping ceiling. Curumo's bed, which touched the headboard of to his own, was empty. Mairon went to bed earlier than the other apprentices while Curumo was often the last to come upstairs. Mairon didn't see him much, in spite of the closeness of their living conditions.

He looked around once more to make sure he was alone, then took the letter out of his pocket. It was written on heavy parchment and stained from travel. The seal was Melkor's. Melkor, the most beautiful creature in Ea and the mightiest; black hair, high cheekbones, laughing eyes ..

After he read the letter, it would join the others inside a steel box secured by locks and multiple layers of enchantment, kept hidden beneath a loose floorboard in the back of a seldom-used cupboard in the attic; a heavy trunk sat on top of it. He had been told to burn the letters after reading them, but he couldn't bring himself to do that.

He smiled, savoring the moment, then broke the seal and unfolded the paper.

* * *

><p>[1] Saruman<p>

[2] Radagast


	7. The Offer

**Chapter 7 - The Offer**

Mairon was walking home from a farmhouse where he'd just delivered a bag of nails. He earned pocket money by making nails in his free time and selling them to neighbors. All the meals and drinks he was buying for other people were beginning to get expensive. To pay for them, he was making so many nails, he'd learned to work one bar of iron on the anvil with two others in the fire behind him. Forging three nails at once was as hard as keeping his many targets straight.

When Mairon left the farmhouse, it was starting to get dark. The wind picked up and he looked at the sky, frowning. The low, fast moving clouds had a menacing greenish hue. He would have to hurry to make it home before the storm broke.

As he watched, a region in the center of the storm, dark and dense, seemed to contract into an almost tangible shape, which fell away from the clouds and swept across the field. When it reached the road, it took form and stood in front of Mairon, laughing.

Melkor. Tall, athletically built, his long hair whipped around him by the wind. Mairon thought about him all the time. But when Melkor appeared unexpectedly, Mairon fell silent, suddenly shy.

"When we spoke last, I offered you a position as one of my Captains." Melkor said. "I've come to make the offer again."

"You offered me power. I'm not interested in power." said Mairon.

"You would be, if you'd ever had it." said Melkor.

Mairon was silent.

"Tell me then, if you could have anything you wanted what would you wish for?"

"I want my own smithy with my own cottage nearby, and a wife to share it with."

"And what are your chances of getting those things?"

_Close to zero, as you well know, _he thought.

"Why are you interested in me, anyway? I didn't even sing your themes in the Music." said Mairon.

"You're different from the others. You're responsible. You work hard. You're someone I can rely on. I see in you all the same things that Aulë does, and more. I see in you the seeds of Greatness."

Mairon studied Melkor to see if he was teasing. He wasn't.

"I need someone who will complete the things I conceive who will stand behind me, who's intelligent enough to understand me." said Melkor.

Mairon was silent, trying to absorb what he'd just heard.

"One more thing. You're a craftsman. I offer you the chance to conceive your own designs, and the resources to build them quickly."

Melkor waited. He didn't appear to be in any hurry. He watched while Mairon struggled to decide. Finally, Melkor reached out his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Mairon took it.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Aulë looked up when he heard a knock on the door. Mairon was standing in the doorway, dressed for travel in leather boots and a heavy wool cloak. He had a canvas bag slung over his shoulder, large enough to hold everything he owned.

Mairon came in and took a seat in front of the desk, dropping his bag on the floor by his feet.

"I've come to say goodbye." Mairon said.

"I didn't give you permission to leave." said Aulë.

"I didn't ask."

"I forbid you to go. You're place is here. There's nothing more to discuss." said Aulë.

"I've been thinking about this since the first time I asked your blessing. I should have gone then." said Mairon.

"You're making a mistake. You have no idea what you're doing."

"Maybe not. But I still want to try."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Aulë was the last one downstairs for dinner. He took his place at the head of the table beside Yavanna. Although there were thirty or more people present, many of them young, the group was unusually quiet.

At Aulë's left, Mairon's place was empty.

"Shall we rearrange the plates and chairs so there isn't a gap?" asked Curumo. "And the same in the dormitory? I could take his bed. It would be a shame to let his spot by the window go unused."

Curumo was the second-to-most senior of Aulë's apprentices. Only Mairon outranked him. With Mairon gone, Curumo would take his place. As chief Maia, he was entitled to all the privileges that came with the title.

"No." said Aulë. "Just leave everything the way it is for now. It doesn't seem real to me that he's gone."


End file.
